The blue sky, the blue sea, the river, the moon song, the past of the Qianli sound book, the past is a waste.
In a dream, it has become empty, Linjiang sacrifices the wine from afar, and the blue sea and blue sky are the same.
Where is the sound of heaven, after many years, the wine is not changed to invite the bright moon, the blue sea and green mountains are deep at night.
For the moon sleep, the blue sky and blue sea are at a loss, and the past is clear into the orchestra after many years.
Thousands of miles away, Linjiang is still smiling, and the dream has withered.
With the old dream, who to play a song, Linjiang makes the wine blue sky and the night is cold.
It has not yet arrived, and after years of independent slanting sun, a wild goose flies in the sky.
Three cups of the moon and the blue sky are thousands of clouds, where is the year, looking for it in a dream.
The blue sky and blue sea are thousands of waves, the wine is in the river and the moon is sung, and a song is spread thousands of miles, and the old people are not seen for many years.
Thousands of miles of dreams are haunted, looking at the full moon in the hometown, the mountains are high and difficult to gather, and frequent short messages are sent to report safety.
Tears flow, several autumns, bright moonlit nights, dreams and souls travel thousands of miles together.
The wild goose word passed on the three-path book to the five lakes and the bright moon should know me, and the thousands of miles are lonely.
Last night, I returned to my hometown in a dream, my mother was in my guts, spread good news, and sent sorrow and tears from afar.
Thousands of miles of travel, the bright moon shines on the cold window, the end of the world is close at hand, the mountains are far away, and the dream is haunted by a pair of souls.
I don't see the news of the book, I meet the hearts of distant guests one day, the bright moon shines on my hometown, and I dream back thousands of miles of tears.
Far Dai green mountains are near the water, send flowers, March spring is good, thousands of miles of acacia a dream hidden.
Where is the hometown chicken dog people, thousands of miles of wind and dust have not returned, suddenly reported that the spring news in Jiangnan is early, and the book should be sent to a plum.
Thousands of miles away, my hometown is only in the distant shadow with the wind, and the time enters my arms.
Sanjiang Plumbing transmits spring news, sends far sails, the most is the bright moonlit night of the hometown, Chanjuan is reunited for thousands of miles.
The road is far away and the water is long, the wild goose news is endless, looking at the bright moonlit night of the hometown, thousands of miles of autumn.
Several autumns, a thousand miles of tears are difficult to collect, there is no news, and the sky is high and the earth is far away.
Pingsha gulls and herons are the hometown of Taiwanese guests, Mo Daotian is far away, and the spring breeze has news to Hengyang.
The news spread frequently, and his heart was broken and tears flowed in his hometown far away.
The return of distant guests is endless, frequent short messages ask about the autumn wind, the bright moon in the hometown knows people's intentions, and they follow each other for thousands of miles to the dream.
According to the high-rise building, there is no information in Hengyang, and the end of the world is far away from tears.
The Yangtze River flows day and night, when does the bright moon rest in the hometown, the distant shadow of the lonely sail goes with the wind, and the news of the book has not been received.
The bad news came from a long distance and the hatred was endless, and the hometown was lovesick with the bright moon.
The sail returns to Yuanpu, and the wind spreads that the bright moon should know me, and shine on thousands of homes.
Looking at the hometown in the long sky, the wild geese in the mountains are in a row, and the people are not dissociated, and the yellow flowers are blown off all over the far hills.
In a dream of the rivers and lakes, with you, the end of the world is close at hand, and the mountains are far away, and the news of the wild goose has not been passed.
The joy is strong, the joy is melting, and the bright moon in the hometown follows the dream.
Half falling far away and the mountains are bright, where is the hometown frequently, and the dream soul is affectionate.
The end of the world misses his hometown, thousands of miles are desolate, and the spring breeze blows flowers too far away.
Looking at the clouds in his hometown for thousands of miles, there is good news from the end of the world.
The shadow is sparse, the skinny is proud of the frost, the leaves fall with the wind, and the night is sleepless.
After years of falling, I can't bear to look at it, who has pity for the dead branches of the old trees.
The green leaves have been able to hide the birds, complain about the autumn wind, and no one asks about the ruined grass, only the dark fragrance is still strong.
The wind rolls the dead branches and shakes the loneliness, the dark fragrance floats and the shadows are swaying, and the flowers under the plane tree sigh helplessly.
Send dark incense, dance neon clothes, go with fate, and the sycamore is not young.
Who's house in the autumn rain of the sycamore, the blue leaves and red flowers reflect the sunset, the dead branches and willows dance in the wind, and a wisp of dark fragrance penetrates the window screen.
One night, the west wind fell all the chrysanthemums, and the dead branches and grass were dark and fragrant.
New buds bloom, pitiful, listen to the wind and rain under the sycamore tree, and the leaves fall and the flowers fly for another year.
Do not compete with the group of fragrant dark fragrance, the dead branches and grass leaves fall with it, only the sycamore is proud of the snow frost.
Dropping to the light, the wind blows the leaves and falls silently, and the dry branches sway and the dark fragrance still lingers.
Another year, the willows under the plane tree dance with the wind, accompanied by the moon.
The night withered, the floating snowflakes floated, and the sycamores flew over the small bridge incomprehensibly.
Who is together, withered branches and skinny snow embossed flowers without leaves, and tung with the moon sleeps.
The rain hits the sycamore leaves and falls all over the city, and no one asks about the defeated grass, and the sky is clear.
The green leaves in front of the window are less windy, the sycamore in the courtyard flowers after the rain, the dead branches of the old trees are shaken off, and the dark fragrance is wisps to the end of the world.
The willow wind is bleak, the cold moon is cold and the plum snow is dark, the sycamore flowers are gone, and the lonely old leaves are flying.
Zheng Huixian Zheng Huixian Chinese art